Synopsis
Detective Atticus Ware gave up his beloved Idaho to start again in the mountains of California, close to his imprisoned brother. He has a rewarding job and friends, but the experienced Dominant wants more than the Do-Me submissives who flock around him. He needs a woman who will give her heart as well as her body.
Virginia, “Gin,” is damn good at her challenging career as a prison psychologist. However, one problem inmate is mired in misery and unable to overcome his guilt at causing a friend’s death.
To clear her mind, she joins a friend’s kinky backpacking excursion, planning to hide in her tent during the evening BDSM pursuits. But Atticus lures her into the activities. She’s read about BDSM, but submission under the hands of a powerful Dom is beyond anything she’d imagined. She doesn’t trust men, doesn’t want a relationship, and yet…wants more from him.
Finally, Atticus has found the woman he wants in his life. In his bed. In his cuffs. But she’s not only his brother’s therapist, but also works in a prison. How can he tolerate his woman walking into danger every single blasted day?
Gin knows she has no future with Atticus Ware, but still, hope is rising in her heart.
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Excerpt
“Virg called. There’s a prison riot in Yard A. But while
that happened, a Hummer took out the fence in the minimum-security section.
Several racist gang members—skinheads—were on yard work. Four grabbed a couple
of the female staff and escaped.”
When Atticus’s hand stopped in midstroke, the mare nudged
him chidingly. “What about Gin? Is she all right? Has anyone seen her?”
“Buddy,” Morgan’s gaze was stark. “She was kidnapped.”
“No.” The word came from his gut. Then he moved. Left the
stall. Shut in the mare. “Lend me a car.” He could—
Morgan grabbed his shoulder and ducked the reflexive punch.
“Hold, man. They had a Jeep. Abandoned it up around Banner Mountain. The
trailhead there breaks into a shitload of small paths. Virgil wants us to mount
up, take the Flint trail, and see if we can cut their tracks.”
Smelling trouble, Trigger came to sit at Atticus’s feet.
Despite the fear for Gin tearing through him, Atticus forced
himself to pause. Think. Hummer for the fence. Must have had the Jeep waiting.
All on yard work. That shouldn’t have been allowed. Had they planned the riot
as a diversion? They probably had gun or drug money to blow on bribes.
Everything pointed to a coordinated plan.
Well thought out. So they’d know roadblocks would be set up.
“They’ll have gear from the car. And maps. Are probably making for a point
where they can be picked up by car.”
Wyatt had swung into action. When home, the Mastersons
assisted Search and Rescue; they kept packs ready to go.
“Ware, catch.” Saddlebags flew through the air.
Atticus caught the load. Yard A. Sawyer wasn’t in that one.
Still… “Any word on my brother?”
“Virgil didn’t say anything.” Morgan was saddling his horse.
Stay safe, bro. Keep your head down. Atticus saddled Festus
and turned his mind to the task. The fucking inmates were canny enough to set
up a prison break. They had hostages. And they’d react like cornered rats if
found.
Gin, hold on, sweetling.
Atticus only had his service weapon. We need more firepower.
“Wyatt, we’re going to need rifles. Accurate ones.”
“On it, buddy.” Morgan ran for the house.
Time to go hunting.
About the Author
Having to wear glasses in elementary school can scar a person for life. Dubbed a nerd at an early age, Cherise Sinclair has been trying to live up to the stereotype ever since. And what better way than being an author?
Known for writing deeply emotional stories, the USA Today Bestselling Author has penned sixteen erotic romance novels, most with a BDSM theme. (Please do not mention the phrase mommy porn in her presence.) Her awards range from a National Leather Award to a Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice nomination to a GoodReads BDSM group award for best author of the year. Called an “ascendant erotica queen” by Rolling Stone Magazine, Cherise spends her days writing, supervised by a sadistic calico cat.
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